My Snow
by Dei Gratia 43
Summary: Ginny and Oliver have been secretly seeing each other. When word gets out that the two hottest players in Quidditch, who are supposed to be rivals for the Quidditch Cup, are dating, their snow-like relationship will be put through the test.
1. Part 1

The aisles of Quality Quidditch Supplies were overflowing with last minute shoppers as I absently ran my fingers over the smooth black leather case of a broom servicing kit that I needed desperately for my Firebolt 360. Taking a deep breath in I tried not to think about the sweaty moisture that permeated the air of the shop, making my throat feel itchy as if this oxygen wouldn't satisfy my body's need.

Taking my time, I glanced over the various products in the case. From the Fleetwood's High-Finish Handle Polish to the silver Tail-Twig Clippers. Perfect. The polish would do wonders after the trauma done to my broom in the last game versus the Appleby Arrows, which still made me furious with just the smallest bit of thought. Sure, we'd won in the end thus securing my team a place in the Quidditch World Cup. But that bloody Greg Landers still deserved a good punch in the kidneys.

The noise-level around me was almost deafening as I took a step backwards to move away from the shelf filled with rows and rows of products that were exact replicas of the one I had cradled to my chest. It was amazing how one little shop could legally maintain this many people. Then again, it might not be legal at all. It was probably more along the lines of the Ministry easing up on the enforcement of their laws during the holiday season.

When I went to spin around in the direction of the main check-out line my body went rigid for a second as an arm came out of nowhere, sliding around my waist and causing a familiar band of warmth to ignite in my lower abdomen. The comfort of this intrusion hit me with the same amount of force that it always did. It would never get old to me.

"Find what you were looking for?" he asked, his lips brushing lightly against my ear as he leaned in closer in order to talk over the hustle and bustle around us.

"Yes," I said, tilting my head to the side so that I could look up at him from over my shoulder. "What about you?"

His fingers drew circles into my side where he had slipped his hand under the edge of my dark blue long-sleeved cotton shirt. "No, they didn't have any more Self Straightening Brushes. But, it's alright. I wasn't really expecting there to be too many left, if any."

"You know, Oliver," I began, turning around and leaning up so that I could press fully against him with one arm around his neck and the other dropped to my side where my hand could intertwine with the familiar warmth of his own. "If you had just taken my advice, you could have already had those brushes."

"Oh yeah?" he said, smiling down at me from a towering height that even _I_ couldn't match up to. The only people who are taller than Oliver are Ron and Bill, but that's just because they're freaks.

"Yeah," I nodded, biting my lip when I returned his smile unconsciously.

"Well, I'm terribly sorry, Ginny," he chuckled, pressing his cheek into my hand as I reached up to brush his sandy brown fringe back from his face that even his hat couldn't hold in place. "I guess we can't all be as smart and wise and-"

"Sexy and wicked in bed and so too good for you?" I continued, smiling broadly at him as he rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Yes, love. All of the above," he droned monotonously as if answering a question asked by a teacher.

I made a face at him as he stuck his tongue out at me, loving how everything was always so easy with us. We just followed our hearts and let our relationship run its course. I cared about him and he cared about me and that was all either of us needed to know. There was only one problem with us being an us.

We hadn't told anyone about it.

In all fairness to me, I was truly planning on doing just that from the very first moment that we'd gotten together. Then, it somehow just got pushed aside over and over until finally Oliver and I had sat down and talked it through like the reasonable adults that we are. It was a mutual decision to hold off on going public from that moment on. We were in that blissful state that all new, fun-loving romances stir up. Why ruin it by opening it up to the whole world?

After all, we would be doing just that. Opening it up to the _whole entire world_. Oliver Wood and Ginny Weasley didn't exactly blend into a crowd. Oliver is the greatest Keeper that the game of Quidditch has seen for over 200 years. He's been gaining this reputation on Puddlemere United since he was just out of Hogwarts. And I, well, I'm the newest starting Chaser of the Chudley Cannons. The only woman, and certainly the youngest on the team at the age of twenty-one. Apparently that makes me the current hot story.

As if all of that wasn't enough, Puddlemere United and the Chudley Cannons just happen to be rivals for the World Cup this coming spring. Fans would be in a complete uproar over the two of us if we told everybody about our relationship. No, it was much better to keep quiet until the season was over and done with. To just continue staying inside to be together, and to keep hiding our identities with various hats and scarfs while in the public eye. We had been doing a fantastic job of it for the last four months. Why stop now?

Oliver slid a hand up my arm and into the bright red locks of my hair that fell from under my winter hat, making shivers that had nothing to do with the temperature run up my spine. I stared into his hazel eyes that made me want to melt instantly into his arms and remain like that, secure from all outside influences, forever. A crooked smile pulled up a corner of his mouth as his face inched closer to mine.

"I've got to go pay," I said with as innocent of a smile as I could manage when I pulled away from him just as his lips were a centimeter away from mine.

Oliver groaned, releasing his hold upon the back of my neck and my lower back. "Such a tease."

"Who, me?" I asked, blinking at him angelically.

"Love, I know you too well to fall for that act anymore. It hasn't worked since week two," he said, reaching out to pick up the servicing kit that I had, at some point or another during our brief exchange, discarded on the shelf behind us.

"Yes, but it _did_ work," I said, eyeing him triumphantly.

"I'll give you that," he smiled, shaking his head at me when I held out a hand for the kit. "I've got it covered. Go wait outside."

I raised my eyebrows at him, not retracting my hand.

Oliver looked to the ceiling as if asking some heavenly body how he could possibly have wound up with someone so stubborn. "C'mon, Ginny. Throw me a rope here. You never let me do anything for you."

"That's because I don't _need_ you to," I stated matter-of-factly.

"Well, I'm not doing this because you need me to. I'm doing it because I want to. End of discussion. Go wait for me outside," he said, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to my lips before winking at me and swaggering away toward the check-out line. He was probably only just barely stopping himself from giving in and patting himself on the back for winning this argument. The only thing holding him back was probably his pride. He knew that if I ever saw him doing such a thing again I'd never let him hear the end of it. He was perfect enough that I liked to point out faults.

Oliver was more than I could have ever hoped for in a boyfriend. He was smart, charming, down-to-earth, witty, strong, determined as hell and always treated me as an equal. The fact that he was also gorgeous from head to toe, was simply the icing on the cake. I loved him. He knew it, too. Not only had I said it, but I'm sure it was absolutely blatant just by a quick glance. I mean, I couldn't stop myself from smiling when he looked at me that way he always did and I felt positively giddy whenever he said something particularly romantic. I was completely done for.

Smiling softly to myself, I headed in the direction of the exit while trying not to bump into too many people. I hadn't been joking when I said the shop was overflowing with customers. The doors had to be kept wide open so that enough people could enter and leave. Cold air rushed inside only to be overcome by the warmth of so many people packed together. By the time I had squeezed through the doorway and out onto the snow-covered main street of Diagon Alley, I'd had to apologize to seven people for either shouldering them or stepping on their feet.

The street was even more packed than Quality Quidditch Supplies had been, causing me to remain shoved up against the side of the building in an effort to avoid oncoming traffic. I was left waiting there for about fifteen minutes and about twenty five bruises before Oliver finally left the store and used the combination of his incredible height and my insanely red hair to locate me in the crowd.

"My hero," I said with a flourish as he pushed his way toward me and used his body as a shield from the holiday-crazed shoppers all around us.

The shopping bag with my kit in it hung loosely from his wrist as both of his hands slid over my hips and he pressed up against me, "Yeah, I'm a regular knight in shining armor."

"More like a talented Keeper with a _dirty_ broom," I said, my voice dipping suggestively and eliciting a bark of laughter from him.

He stared at me with bright, warm eyes as I stared back. It was as if the swarms of people all around us simply died away until only the two of us were left on the street. Just me and Oliver. There was cinnamon on his breath as it caressed my skin, filling me with a longing to never let go of this moment.

"I love you," I said, smiling softly.

His only answer was a kiss, passionate and demanding right there in that very spot. Kissing Oliver was always something new and never anything short of breathtaking. He didn't kiss just to kiss, but to feel. And I always did. I felt his desire, his affection, his need. His every touch was like a bolt of lightening shocking my system and throwing it into overdrive.

Suddenly, he was wrapping his arms protectively around me and apparating us away from prying eyes with a brief spin.

Sometimes I wished that everything could be that easy. One pivot and you could be anywhere you want, away from every problem. But, some problems couldn't be ran from. Some were internal, some were too close to home. But, for now, I was just going to live in this moment. Where no problems could touch me and, if they did, I'd still have Oliver. Sometimes all you need are the simple things. What's simpler than love?

* * *

**AN: This was actually written for a challenge in the HPFF forums. I've honestly never tried a pairing other than Hermione/OC to this magnitude. Hope you enjoyed it! It's meant to be a short story, so it should end up being about 4 chapters long.**


	2. Part 2

Bundled up in my gray winter coat, red hat and red scarf, I smiled to myself as the cold December air licked at my cheeks and the tip of my nose. There was a curtain of new fallen snow on the ground from last night, causing me to feel a tinge of pity in my heart with each and every step I took that marred its pure perfection with the print of my boots.

My brother, Ron, and his fiancé, Hermione, owned a small cottage on the outskirts of London, where I had made plans to visit this evening for supper. I could have apparated directly onto their doorstep had I wished it. Instead, however, I chose the ten minute walk from a few streets down in order to cherish my favorite season. I had never really been one to take the easy way out, especially when it involved snow.

Ever since I was a young girl snow has seemed so special to me. Something that made me feel happy and secure. Every snowfall was like a new beginning. A clean, blank piece of parchment that you could do absolutely anything with. And lately, that feeling of complete bliss hadn't only encompassed my feelings toward snow, but also toward Oliver Wood.

There are so many similarities.

The world seems to soften when it snows and everything becomes a magical wonderland. That's how Oliver makes me feel. He's my own personal snowfall, always there and always making me feel the same way I felt when we first began seeing each other:

Like a whole new person.

Like nothing could ever go wrong.

The already gray sky was growing darker now as the evening drew nearer to its end. It was like I was seeing the world in black and white. The only color in my line of vision for an extensive amount of time was my red hat and scarf. Both showing vibrantly among the murky landscape.

There was nothing more beautiful than that ashen environment to me. It was like for once the world really _did_ have no in-between. No where to get lost in. It was black and white. There was a perfect balance that you couldn't cross. A stability, in a way. There was only good and bad, happy and sad, and love and hate. An absolute equilibrium.

Sighing happily to myself, I squinted my eyes against the wind and managed to locate their cottage just a few lots down on the right. There was a single lamppost on the corner of the street which was radiating a small band of light that would increase in diameter as the night wore on. Following that small speck of yellow, I scampered along the remaining distance between me and Ron's property. As I was opening up the white picket fence that surrounded their lawn, the front door creaked open and I got a nice whiff of the supper to come.

"Hurry up, it's bloody freezing!" Ron shouted, wrapping his arms around his chest to shield himself from the cold as he nodded toward the door eagerly.

"It's just cold enough for snow," I laughed, shaking my head at him as I trampled up the five steps in front of the door and into the house.

"Just cold enough to freeze a bloke's bits off, you mean?" he asked, rolling his eyes in that sarcastic way of his and following me inside.

"Such a drama queen," Hermione muttered, sighing as if she already knew there was nothing she could do about it now. She was stuck with him.

Not that she truly minded, though. They were perfect for each other. The ideal balance between love and friendship. Ron annoyed her enough to keep things interesting, and Hermione focused him enough to keep a handle on his career as an Auror. He'd lose his head if it weren't attached to his body. It was really fascinating to watch them together.

I'm happy for them. Really, I am. I mean, not everyone finds their soul mate; but my brother is proof that _some_ do. Yet, sometimes, when I catch either one of them watching the other, I feel overwhelmingly jealous. Does Oliver look at me with that level of adoration?

"How are you 'Mione?" I asked, smiling broadly as I took in her bulging stomach. The thing just doubled in size every time I saw her. "How's my niece or nephew?"

"I'm thinking your _nephew_ is fine," she answered, coming around the table to hug me when I squealed in delight.

"I just knew it!" I exclaimed, kissing her cheek and throwing a merry glance at my blatantly proud brother. "I had a feeling the baby would be a boy."

"Well, I think simple logic would have told you that," Hermione laughed, resting her palms against her stomach and looking down with that amazed look that both of them always got when they thought about a little person growing in there. "Statistically I'll have to have at least four children before a girl pops into the picture."

"Statistics my arse," I said, winking at her as I walked toward the stove to nosy my way into what was being prepared for supper. "The next one will be a girl. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," she said, her face glowing in pleasure as Ron went over to wrap his arm around her petite frame and kiss her temple after brushing aside a mane of curls.

"So, Ginny, you ready for the big game?" Ron asked, looking over at me expectantly. I may be the professional Quidditch player, but I'm fairly certain that Ron's passion for the sport can't be found anywhere else. Well, save for Oliver. No one loves the game more than Oliver.

"It's months away, Ron. I think I have more than enough time to prepare myself," I said, pouting playfully when Hermione came over to slap my hand away from the plate of roasted potatoes and vegetables.

"How's training going?" he continued, ignoring my dismissal of the topic completely. "That coach of yours is having you watch feeds from previous Puddlemere games, right? You've got to learn their weaknesses."

I already know plenty of Oliver's weaknesses.

"We're getting to that. Right now it's just the same old, same old. We're trying not to let it go to our heads, you know?" I said, shooting Hermione a look as she nodded sympathetically. Ron wasn't exactly known to be subtle.

"I guess that's good," he said, leaning backwards against one of the kitchen counters. "It's just that you've got to win this thing. I hate the thought of Wood taking home the title again. That guy just grates my last nerve."

I'm sure I turned as red as a tomato. And not from embarrassment, but from anger. How dare he? Ron doesn't even _know_ Oliver. He has no reason whatsoever to dislike him.

"Don't be silly, Ronald," Hermione said, throwing a glare over her shoulder at him as she manually stirred something that smelt absolutely delicious in a saucepan on the stove. No matter how many years she had been living in the Wizarding World, Hermione Granger would always prefer to do the simple things the Muggle way. "I'm sure Oliver is a lovely man."

"Lovely man?" Ron repeated, making a face. "My arse!"

"What's he ever done to make you think so little of him?" Hermione asked, placing her hands on her hips and sticking her chin out stubbornly.

The only thing I could make myself do was watch.

"Haven't you read _The Prophet_ at all? The guy's a total wanker! He's got a new girl every week and drinks his night away down in Diagon Alley. If he wasn't a fair Keeper he'd be living out on the streets."

"You're judging someone before you've even given them a chance!"

"He doesn't deserve a bloody chance!"

Merlin, how did this happen? And since when did Oliver have a different girl every week and drink extensively? _The Daily Prophet_ must really be reaching for news these days.

"You're an idiot, Ronald, for believing everything that stupid newspaper says," Hermione said, shaking her head as she walked over to the dining room table and grabbed something off of the surface. Her aim must have been to get it out of sight before Ron could see the cover; yet, he was quicker than she gave him credit for.

"What the hell's this?" he demanded, grabbing it from her hand as she looked over at me with wide eyes.

That's when I knew.

"What the hell is this?" Ron reiterated, waving the newspaper in front of my face as I tried to wrap my head around what was going on.

_Romantic Rivals, Who Knew?: The Chudley Cannons' starting Chaser, Ginny Weasley, and Puddlemere United's star Keeper, Oliver Wood, take a holiday frolic under an invisible mistletoe_

Shoot.

"Well, er-"

"It's a hoax, right?" Ron asked, his face red and his blue eyes flashing.

"No, it's not," I said, finally just coming out with it. I mean, the only reason he was asking was that he was incapable of wrapping his head around the very idea of such -what in his mind was- sportive sin. There really was no way to deny what was blatantly staring everyone in the face. There, on the cover of The Daily Prophet, was a moving replay of Oliver and I's snogging session right on the main street of Diagon Alley.

How could we have been so stupid? You can only hide who you are for so long. And two grown adults going at it in a crowd draws attention no matter who they are. The fact that we're both professional athletes just nails it home. Scarfs and hats can only hide your identity if you're inconspicious.

"Are you mad?" Ron shouted, making me flinch. Sure, I'm headstrong; but I still have a weakness for being on the bad side of one of my brothers. It was always my childhood nightmare to be left behind as the only girl and he knew it. He was playing on my weakness.

"Ronald, stop it," Hermione spat, stepping in-between us and placing both of her hands on his chest. "She's loves him."

"Love? Oliver Wood doesn't know what love is off of a broomstick," he laughed without humor, making my eyes drop to the floor for a second so that I could gather my wits.

Unable to handle the blows that he was throwing at me any longer, I took a step toward him with my shoulders squared and my spine stiff.

"We love each other. No matter what you say, I love him and he loves me," I said, as calmly as I could manage. I didn't want to play on his level, no matter how hard it was to bite back the infamous Weasley temper.

"Alright then," Ron said, but I knew he didn't mean it. "So, he's told you flat out that he's in love with you. He's said those words."

I blanched. When I thought back to it, Ron had a very sound point. Oliver had never told me that he loved me in return. No matter how many times I'd said it he'd always kissed me as his answer. Up until this moment, I'd always taken that as a "yes." I'd felt like it was a "yes" every time. But, was it? Not technically.

Merlin, he'd never said it. Never. How had I been so deluded? He'd been leading me on for months. Why hadn't he just said it?

"See," Ron said, his voice not nearly as accusing as I stared straight ahead of me in wonder. "I'm sorry, Gin."

"No you're not," I whispered, biting my lip as I spun on my heel. "But, thanks anyways."

Then, I apparated directly onto the front lawn of my boyfriend's house. Or was he even that? All of this time had he really cared for me the way I had convinced myself he did? Did he feel that warmth is his stomach when we kissed, or get butterflies when I smiled a certain way at him? Did he feel anything?

My feet hit the frozen ground while I was already moving toward the house. Now, I was more than determined. My eyes were narrowed on the front door which was illuminated by the light coming from Oliver's living room. The only time I tore my gaze away from my goal was as I marched through the snow right under the humongous pine tree that stood in front of the little house. We'd kissed for the first time beneath it's comforting branches. For the very first time, I didn't feel happy as I passed it.

I ran up the steps and pounded on the door, crossing my arms over my chest as I waited for him to answer.

"Ginny," Oliver said in surprise, looking around me and into the night as if expecting that I hadn't come alone. "What are you doing here? Come in."

"No thanks," I said curtly, tilting my head and scanning over his features. His face was cleanly shaven, more so than it had been the other day, and his sandy brown hair was tousled as if he had been running his hands through it for a while now. His hazel eyes narrowed in on me with concern at my tone.

"Are you alright, love?" he asked, reaching a hand out. I shrugged it away before I could get too comfortable.

"Do you love me?" I blurted out, reaching up to impatiently brush a piece of hair out of my face as the wind picked up around us.

"Excuse me?"

"It's not that hard of a question, Oliver. It's a yes or no. Do you love me?"

"I think we should talk about this when you're being a little more rational, Gin," he said, throwing a carefully constructed grin my way as his eyes relayed something else entirely. He looked completely panicked.

"That's all I needed to hear," I said, shaking my head and looking down at the ground in an effort to hold back the pain. It was like a knife through my heart. How could he lead me on for so long? He knew I loved him, yet he just went along with it. He had never told me the truth. And he still wasn't.

I had to find it out for myself.

"C'mon, love, it's not like that," he said, reaching a hand out for me as I backed up and bit my lip. "Please, just let me explain my-"

"Have a nice night, Oliver," I interrupted, smiling miserably in a failed attempt to hide my inner remorse. I couldn't listen to his voice anymore. The voice that made shivers run up my spine when it got that husky quality to it. The voice that had, on more occasions than one, made a blush rise to my cheeks as he whispered a suggestive comment in my ear. I couldn't bare it. "And a nice life."

The look on his face just before I staggered down the steps and across his lawn almost was enough for me to think I had it all wrong. But, the truth couldn't be tossed aside by one expression. He didn't love me. It was simple. He didn't love me, and we had never had the "snow-like" relationship that I had thought we did. Oliver didn't symbolize bliss or security, like snow had always done for me. Actually, he had for a little while. He'd been that magical gift.

Then the rain came.

* * *

**AN: So sorry that it took me this long to finish the update. The holidays are so chaotic with my family and I never had a moment alone just to sit down and think. Anyway, I hope you liked it. There will be one more post before the story is finished. Be sure to review and tell me what you thought. By the way, I know Hugo was Ron and Hermione's first born, but I made the baby a girl for this story :D I like changing things up. Thanks!**


	3. Part 3

All I could do for the week following my fallout with Oliver was think about how very oblivious my love for him had made me to his real feelings. How dim did someone have to be to remain in the dark for as long as I had? Honestly, even though I was heartbroken over his lies, I was much angrier with myself for being so naïve about it. I guess my years of unrequited adoration as a teenager for my brother's best friend was enough to make me desperate to be loved in return for once. Actually, it was really wrong of me to place the blame for all of my problems on the shoulders of Harry Potter. You can't help who you love.

Unfortunately.

Absently lifting up one of my hands, I grabbed the pillow next to my head and threw it in the direction of my dresser where I knew a picture of Oliver and I sat, haunting me. It was enough to bring tears to my eyes as I lifted my head up enough to watch as we twirled around together in a fierce embrace beneath the very tree that sat in his front yard. The pillow had completely missed its mark and had hit into the picture of my brothers, Charlie and Bill, arm wrestling, instead. I winced guiltily as the moving figures shook their fists at me from beneath the, now cracked, pane of glass in the frame from its place on the floor.

Dropping my head back onto the one surviving pillow I blew a long strand of hair out of my face and stared up at the ceiling. I hadn't left my room for more than a few, forced, bites of food and bathroom breaks. I was vaguely happy that last night before she had gone home, Hermione had forced me into the shower. She had been over once a day since that fateful night, trying to convince me that I was better off without someone who couldn't treat me the way I deserved. It had just caused more tears to come to my eyes as she attempted to cheer me up, though. Hermione Granger wasn't the best person for the job of uplifting someone. She was really downright horrible at it. The day after the breakup she'd told me that she had thought from day one that Oliver wasn't right for me due to my desire for a large family when I decided on settling down. She said that with the amount of time the man spent with a broomstick between his legs there was a very small probability that he could ever successfully impregnate me multiple times.

I did manage a pitiful laugh, even though the fact that she was dead serious was somewhat terrifying.

With an exaggerated sigh I lifted the comforter off of the bed and up into the air enough to view my current rumpled appearance. It was ghastly, and that was putting it kindly. No matter how hurt Oliver Wood had made me feel, it was no excuse to sit around and mope. I was a strong, independent woman. Not only was I loved by family and friends, but I also happened to have the most fantastically fulfilling job that one could ever possibly end up with. I hated that I was still so depressed that one measly boy didn't love me. So what? There was more where he came from, right? Plenty of them. In fact, just a few days before I had become officially single again Kevin Christenson, the Seeker for my team, had asked if I would like to go out to dinner with him on any night of my choice. I had more than enough opportunities out on the table which I could use to screw the memory of a certain pain in my arse.

It was like a weight had been lifted off of me. I was young, fairly attractive, and, in my opinion, easy to have something in common with. Men love a girl who knows her way around a broom, and I've always garnered tons of extra points while dating just by being a Quidditch player. Oliver bloody Wood could piss off for all I cared. He could keep his pitiful excuses and shag any damn bimbo that came his way.

A knock resounded from the door to my flat, causing me to sit up in bed for the first time in too long. "The door is open!" I yelled out, pushing the covers off of me and swinging my legs over the side of the bed to stand. I was slightly surprised that I didn't collapse under the weight due to my previous immobility. I made quick work of throwing my hair up into a ponytail, changing into denim pants and a slightly-too-large t-shirt.

"Well look who finally decided to crawl out of the rabbit hole," Hermione said, smiling brightly at me when she saw I wasn't still laying down.

"Today's a good day, isn't it?" I replied simply, returning her smile with one of my own as I strode over to the nearest window and drew back the curtains in order to let some light in. It was a beautiful sunny day.

Quidditch weather, as long as you didn't mind the cold.

"I guess," she said hesitantly, placing both hands on her hips and observing me attentively.

"What?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest to get away from her scrutiny.

"I was here yesterday and you barely said a word in between fits of rage followed by mournful cries," Hermione said, cocking one eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes, strolling purposefully over to my closet and yanking a cardboard box from the back corner. "Things change."

"What are you doing?"

"Getting rid of all evidence of my temporary loss of sanity," I darn near growled, taking a deep breath before scanning the room quickly. Everything that reminded me of Oliver, or was his at some point or another, had to go. No exceptions. "Care to lend a hand?"

Hermione dropped her arms to her side with a loud exhale, obviously deciding that it was better not to question my sudden change in attitude. I could easily see the range of emotions pass over her face, from disbelief to reluctant acceptance. I knew I had her on my side for good the moment she had pointed to a brown teddy bear and asked who gave it to me. It immediately went into the box after that.

It actually went a lot faster than I had thought it would. I probably should have realized at the beginning of the task that he didn't have nearly as much stuff at my flat as I had at his house. The thought froze me in my place. How was I supposed to get everything back? I had been going to his house almost seven days a week for over two months, so there was bound to be something of importance there. Nothing I could just forget about and leave in my nervous fear of having to come face to face with him.

"Shoot!" I exclaimed, causing Hermione to jump and hit her head on the framing of the bed from her position with half of her body underneath it. I winced as she dragged herself out and put a hand to the now irritated flesh which was hidden beneath an abundant amount of overwhelming brown curls. Her glare was enough to make me shift from foot to foot with as innocent and rueful a smile as I could manage. "Sorry."

"It's fine as long as your excuse is clever enough," she murmured, pushing herself up onto her feet and sitting down on my bed with a few choice words said beneath her breath. By way of apology, I pretended I never heard her say a single swear.

"Well, I just remembered that I had tons of belongings over at Oliver's place," I said, sinking onto the bed beside her. "I can't believe I didn't realize it sooner."

"You were kind of out of it this last week," Hermione sighed, looking at me sympathetically. "It's completely understandable too. Why don't you let me drop Oliver's stuff off to him? I'll make him pack up anything that he has and hand them over. You won't have to see him until you're ready."

"Or the Quidditch Cup rolls around?" I added, smiling weakly at her.

"Exactly. And when it _does _you can channel all your anger into beating his butt."

I laughed, half at the idea and half at her childlike choice of words.

"Can I tell you something from the bottom of my heart without you getting angry or feeling betrayed?" Hermione asked out of the blue, watching closely as I stood up and walked over to the box which was now filled to the brim. I threw one last object into it –a locket- before shutting it for good.

"Go head," I said, glancing over my shoulder at her uncertainly.

"Well, when I was in school I was faced with a choice between risky and simple. I thought I was strong enough to go with the harder road, but I eventually fell back on the easy instead," she began, tucking her curls behind her ears and then plowing on before I could even ask what she was talking about. "I think, for you, the harder road will be going back to Oliver and giving him a second chance. I think the easy way out is losing hope. I may not have been strong enough, but I think you are."

"Oliver doesn't love me, Hermione," I said, my voice not nearly as strong as I would have liked as I bent down and heaved the box up into my arms. "I like the ending where I wind up with someone who actually cares. It sounds wonderful."

"Ginny-"

"I think I'm going to go drop this off on his doorstep with a note myself. He's usually out doing one thing or another during the day. Plus, today is perfect for Quidditch and he'll be off with a few friends playing," I said, not wanting to hear any more about the topic. I just wanted him out of my life for good.

I didn't wait for her answer before spinning around on the spot and apparating to the familiar environment of my ex-boyfriend's front lawn. My eyes steered clear of the tree off to the left as I made my way to the front door. There was no sound coming from inside as I shifted the box in my arms and hesitated for only a moment before dropping it with a thud. I crossed my arms over my chest, now kind of peeved that I had gone without a coat. Maybe it would be better if I sent an owl to him from the comfort of my own home, instead of wasting time here and now writing a letter about wanting my belongings back.

If he hadn't burnt them or something.

It felt incredibly odd to be standing in front of the door where everything had ended for us. A shiver ran up my spine as I got a flash of his face in my mind, the face that had almost made me turn around and run back into his arms last week. If I hadn't felt so immensely betrayed I probably would have. He'd looked absolutely fraught. With that thought in mind I turned around with a last glance at the box with everything in it that I had left as proof that it all hadn't been a dream, or nightmare. It was in the moment that my foot hit the top step as I moved to leave that I heard the front door creak open. I froze in place due to the shock of it all. I had been so damn sure that the possibility of him being home was an absolute zero.

"There's no way that I'm _this_ unlucky," I muttered quietly, closing my eyes for a second in order to take it all in.

"Ginny?" he sounded as disbelieving as I was, but not at the horror of it all. No, it seemed like relief, or maybe that was one last desperate hope on my part trying to grab onto anything it possibly could and hang on. "Merlin, Gin, I've missed you. I was waiting for you to just come back so I could explain everything. I figured it wasn't a good idea to just pop into your flat when you seemed so out of sorts."

"Spare me the theatrics, Oliver," I ground out trying to stop him before he continued with the excuses. I scowled over my shoulder at him before quickly walking down the rest of the steps in the hope of getting to the apparation site as soon as possible, while trying to get the image of his face out of my head. His face had always seemed so perfect to me. The only thing that could make the pain of seeing him lessen was the fact that he looked as if he hadn't slept in days. He deserved it. "Get over yourself!"

"Ginny, wait!" he exclaimed, and I heard his footsteps on the stairs signalling his pursuit. "Why did you come back if it wasn't to get the full story?"

"To give you your bloody shit back!" I yelled, spinning for a second so I could point backwards to the box in question which he had obviously been too oblivious to see, before continuing away from him. "I don't want your brainless explanations!"

"Will you just listen for a minute?" he replied, his Scottish brogue slowly deepening in a surefire sign that he was getting angrier by the second. "Stop jumping to conclusions for once in your bloody life!"

That froze me in my place and had me facing him with murder in my eyes and my hands on my hips. "Jumping to conclusions? What the hell else am I supposed to make out of all this? You're an arse! You dragged me along, knowing how I felt about you, and you made me believe you felt it too! You _used_ me!"

"So what? I'm an arse! Who the hell isn't?" he shouted, walking towards me still as I stubbornly held my ground. "But I'm not one for the reasons that you're accusing me of. If anything you can yell on and on in that scarily sexy voice of yours about how I'm a bloody coward, but lay off the attacks on my character otherwise. I didn't use you!"

"Coward?" I asked, my voice testy as I straightened myself up to my maximum height and looked directly into his hazel eyes when he stopped just a foot away from me. "That's too kind."

"No, it's perfect. Mocking and absolutely true," he replied, his face red in a mix between irritation and the frigid air. I'm sure I didn't look too far off. "I was completely spineless. And you're so bloody hot-headed that I can barely get a word in even to tear the mickey out of myself."

"Well, don't you have a way with words," I muttered contemptuously, rolling my eyes. "Please go on, it's getting me all hot and bothered hearing you call me a bitch."

"You're not a bitch," he said, shaking his head with a lopsided smile. I could almost visibly see all of his anger dissipate and be replaced with . . . acceptance? "You're perfect."

My eyes narrowed. "Stop."

"No," he shook his head, looking up at the sky for a second before back into my eyes. I refused to fall for his act again, though. "What can I possibly say to change your mind? I know you, Gin, and I know you're so stubborn that once you've decided something you stick to it. And in your mind I'm the lowest of the low."

"Spot on," I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Just let me say one thing before you huff on off and leave for good," he said, running a tired hand over his face which was much scruffier than I was used to on him. His hair looked like he had been through a hurricane, as well.

"You've got 30 seconds," I sighed, dropping my hands in exhaustion. I just wanted to roll up in the fetal position and sleep for a month or two.

"I already said I was a coward, and I believe that completely," he began, his voice gentle and enrapturing as the sky darkened all around us, "I was terrified, to be honest, of telling you the truth. _You_ think the truth is that I don't return your feelings, but the real truth is that I do. So bloody much too. I'm madly in love with you, Ginny Weasley, and if you say this is over just as I finally plucked up the courage to admit it I'll respect your decision because I'd do anything for you. But, you should know that you're it for me. I don't care what you say; you're always going to be everything."

"You can't just play around with my feelings," I murmured weakly, closing my eyes at the emotions that he had summoned forward. It was more than I had wished for in the last months, plus some. It was everything I'd been dying to hear. "I can't take it anymore."

"You've got to believe me," he said, his voice laced with frustration as he reached forward to run his hands up my arms and then cup my neck on both sides. His touch warmed me to the bone, almost making me melt completely. "I'm not good with this emotional stuff, Gin. I don't know how to be."

There was something about his tone that made me fall harder than I fell before. I didn't want him to be anyone else but him. I didn't care that he wasn't good at it; he always hadn't been the most open of men. Yet, when he _did_ manage to get something out it had always been even better than I could have hoped for. Always more than good enough. Perfect, in fact.

"Say it again," I whispered, opening my eyes to stare up at him. My heart beat harshly against my ribcage and I bit my lower lip in an attempt to remain calm.

"I love you," he responded, his eyes so soft and full of adoration that I felt the smile rise to my lips before I had even thought about it. This had to be the way Ron and Hermione always smiled at each other that had me so jealous all of those times. That spark in Oliver's eyes seemed so familiar that I couldn't for a second doubt it any longer.

His face lit up at my expression, his lips already descending toward mine. I barely managed to whisper a quick, "I love you, too," before they slanted over mine in a kiss that took my breath away. It was more than perfect, full of love and devotion and relief to finally be back where we belonged. I had missed it so much, but deep down I knew that we had needed the fight. We had needed something that was so hard to get through that finally getting what we wanted would feel so overwhelmingly good. I felt like I was home again, like everything would be perfect. My body arched into his, needing to be closer.

When he jerked back suddenly, my eyes immediately flew open in alarm. I hesitated when I saw his smile, though, before following his eyes upward. I laughed joyously at what was there.

"Snow," he murmured quietly, drawing me into him again before wrapping his arms around me tightly and burying his face into my neck. His breath tickled the skin there teasingly.

"You're almost better," I whispered in return, reaching a hand up to cup the back of his neck and play with the tousled waves there.

He chuckled, turning his head to kiss me again. Our lips moved against each other's slowly as if savoring the moment and I rejoiced in feeling the cold flakes of snow falling in my hair, on my nose and on my cheeks.

"I'll have to work harder to claim that number one spot," Oliver kidded, his hand against my cheek and his arm around my torso.

"Nothing's better than snow," I smiled, bursting out laughing as he pinched my bottom. "Good luck, though."

Just because he wasn't better, didn't mean he wasn't just as good. I didn't tell him that then, though. Instead, I preferred to just roll with the humor as he raised his eyebrows at my statement before chasing me toward the house. I felt happy, carefree and so . . . perfect. He was everything and I felt so secure and safe in that moment that I knew I'd never get that feeling anywhere else. We were meant to be together. Sometimes you had to overcome that tough stretch in a long journey just so that you could appreciate the ending that much more. Hermione had been right about that, and listening to Oliver had been hard but had paid off. He was my boyfriend, my friend, my lover, my . . . everything.

My snow.

* * *

**AN: So? That's it :D What did you think? I loved writing it, but since I've been over my head writing my Hermione fics lately I kept accidently writing her name at certain parts. For some reason I found it harder to be Ginny than it was for the first two parts. Either way, though, I hope the final product was up to everyone's standards. The ending was kind of cheesy, but I like cheesy if it's in the right dosage, you know? Be sure to review! Tell me how you liked it as a whole! **

**Oh, and some of you will be pleased to know that I have the first chapter, and half of the second chapter, written for my upcoming Theo/Hermione fic called Valiant. I'm not going to post it until Behind Your Smile is finished, though. I'll have a one-shot of the pairing up really soon called Unbreakable so keep your eye out! Remember, review! haha**


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